


rumblings

by kinpika



Series: BLUE [10]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kind of in public, On the back of a bike (that has stopped), Ortega Gets It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: It’s like a challenge, getting her hands to move more.





	rumblings

When Ortega swings a leg over and straddles the leather seat, he tries to think about everything other than dinner. Quiet corner, just the two of them. Candlelit, and he knew she noticed how almost everyone had cleared out. How her foot had slid up the back of his calf, and how she’d held the stem of her glass.

It doesn’t get any easier when he starts the engine. Rumbling underneath him, and Ortega has to let out a low, shaky breath, thankful for how the helmet covers his face. He can do this. He can _definitely_ do this.

Until Logan slides in behind him, thighs hugging his hips, and Ortega hopes he can drive with a hard-on.

Backing up a little, Ortega pulls out easy onto the road. Slight bump from the uneven pavement, before settling into smooth riding. Accelerating along the highway, weaving in and out of cars. Logan’s fingers tap along his sides, and it reminds him of kinder times. She’d listened out then, for when someone was going to make a dumb move and nearly wipe them. Ortega would consider this to be like that, too.

Traffic thins the further out they get. Towards a hill that had been claimed not long into her initial stint as Sidestep. Memories there, and she must know by now he’d chosen that as the next destination. After all, he can feel the shift of her helmet against his back, and how her thighs tighten against him.

Lurching against a gap in the pavement, Ortega swerves, upwards. Hangs a right, and they’re up. Skyline in front of them, and he kicks up some dust just for effect. Leaning the weight of the bike on his leg, Ortega lets the engine rumble low, and he’s almost distracted with how Logan is pressed against him, by squinting through the dying light.

Not for long, of course.

She sighs, muffled by the helmet, and her hand brushes his crotch. Ortega damn well near revs forward, jerking the bike, and has to breathe out a, “damn it.”

“Hmm?”

It’s obvious Logan is smiling, before her fingers get a little bolder, heel of her hand rubbing firmer. Groaning, Ortega finds her knee, holding there, trying to keep his leg still enough to hold up.

At his ear, he hears a, “kickstand,” and barely gets it down before her free hand slips in the open front of his jacket. Pushing the zipper down further, until it came completely free. Logan gives his bulge an agonising squeeze, before she moves.

Tugging his helmet off, then her own, she lets them clatter to the ground that makes the logical part of Ortega flail a little. But that part disappears almost instantly, as he’s urged back, to relax against her, letting himself be groped and unzipped and pulled out into the open air. She’s biting his neck, peppering wet kisses along his skin, and Ortega doesn’t mumble much beyond, “ _god, Logan,_ yes. _”_

Mouth travelling up under his left ear, sucking what’ll likely be a mark right behind his jaw, Logan tangles a hand in his hair, pulling his head back a little more so that her mouth could get at his throat. Tongue laves over the bump of his Adam’s apple, and Ortega swallows hard. Feeling the slight bump of metal against his skin had him open his eyes, just a fraction, meeting her gaze.

Watching how she quickly spits into her hand, clearly the easiest option, and Ortega thinks, _fuck_ _these_ _jeans_. Too tight, with how he just can’t seem to get his legs far enough apart, and he thinks of Logan’s mouth, lips wrapped around his cock, her hands elsewhere on his body. Or how good it would be, to push her against the bike, fucking her right there.

When he lets out a shuddery gasp, thoughts of zippers and jeans and clothes go, with how Logan’s hand wraps around his cock again, wet palm running over the head and down the shaft. Circling him in a tight, warm grip at the base, sliding slowly and deliberately back up. When her grip loosens, Logan teases the head of his cock with her fingertips, and Ortega shudders in her arms.

Laying a hand over hers, he tries to encourage her. Stop her. Get something out of her. As she strokes back and up and down with just two fingers and her thumb, Ortega is left with ragged pants as he presses back against her. “Uh uh,” she murmurs, his hand is almost swatted away.

So Logan settles for wrapping her arm around him, holding him in place, his arms pinned at his sides. Hooking his hands on her thighs, Ortega finds something to hold onto, at the very least. Digs his fingers in, as she continues to stroke him. A hand pushes up at the hem of his shirt, sliding under it, palm hot against his skin, and her fingers find a nipple, pinching, twisting.

“Fuck,” Ortega hisses, nerves jumping. Teeth and tongue against his neck once more, and Logan is pressed hard against him.

Feels her breasts against his back, his name whispered against his ear. Fingers gliding along the underside of his cock, vibrations from the bike idling under them, rumbling against his ass. Ortega bites his lip hard, trying to hold out, trying not to beg for more, at least not yet. Not when Logan’s hands — _oh god, her hands_ —, the one under his shirt, sliding to his other nipple, pinching and teasing. Logan’s mouth biting and sucking intently at his neck, making his cock twitch and ache with the groans at his ear.

He stops bothering to hold back his moans when Logan wraps his cock in a perfect, full-handed grip, giving him shallow pumps along the shaft, sliding up so her thumb can caress the precome-slicked head.

“ _Logan_ ,” Ortega groans, his voice needy, almost begging — yeah, okay, he is begging. Fuck it. He needs just a little more, needs to come _now_.

“Yes?” Logan bites his ear, drawing a wet gasp out of him. His eyes are only half-open, he’s only half-aware of the noises he’s making. Noises that are swallowed by the kiss he turns into.

The first around him tightens, Logan’s left hand slipping out from under his shirt and into his hair, pulling his head back against her shoulder. Ortega feels her grinding hard against his lower back, breathing heavily against his ear. Eyes close completely as Logan’s hand slides up again, enclosing the head of his cock in slick, tight heat. Squeezing rhythmically, speeding up but not quite fast enough, until he digs his fingers into her thighs once more, panting out a, “come _on_.”

It’s like a challenge, getting her hands to move more. Jerking him in longer, faster strokes; Ortega gasping, he’s so close now. Seizes him, as he pushes his hips up into her hand, a hard groan leaving him as he comes. Likely all over himself, but he isn’t looking, or really caring, at the moment. With his head thrown back on Logan’s shoulder, her mouth at his throat, she works him through his orgasm in that way she’s so _damn_ good at, drawing out all those little spasms for a good minute or more.

Logan’s grip on him finally relaxes, and Ortega blisses out completely. Blurred out vision as he leans back against her, panting and stupid with pleasure. His mind is soft and loopy, and he wants to catch the hand that leaves him. Except they disappear from him, and Logan shifts at his back. Turning, as best as he could with liquid limbs, Ortega watches as Logan finishes herself off. Hand shoved down the front of her own jeans, fingers working hard.

Her face drops against his shoulder, and she’s grinding against the bike, singing his name under her breath. Ortega runs a hand through her hair, tugging to pull her face up once more. To sear a kiss on her lips as she comes, an unguarded moan that he swallows.

Takes her wrist then, pulling her hand to his mouth. Sucks every finger clean, and works his tongue in between them, over her palm in a way that gets a low moan from Logan. With a loud _pop_ , Ortega releases her hand, and almost settles for letting the last bits of unfiltered bliss linger, until he notices the mess. Huffs a sigh, and tries to wipe himself up as best he could.

Logan laughs behind him, resting her arms on his back as he leans forward, her chin there too. Warm and solid and peppered kisses on his shoulders. Ortega tucks himself back in, sure there wasn’t much else to wipe off, and leans back into the embrace.


End file.
